Fears
by shastawrites
Summary: There are no names, no dialogues, simply a stab at describing some aspects of Naruto and Sasuke’s lives. Oneshot.


There are no names, no dialogues, simply a stab at describing some aspects of Naruto and Sasuke's lives.

**Fears  
**

It was another day of looking but not seeing.

The villagers of Konoha glanced nervously as a boy barely let his feet touch the ground in his haste to reach a wooden bridge. The air was suddenly thick with their unspoken insults and death threats as he passed through the crowd, parting a sea of hostile people. Their eyes glazed over with hate as they watched his every move, waiting patiently and with unabashed enthusiasm for any reason to punish him and the entity for which they thought him to be.

This was a deadly mix of fear and loathing, a scale that once tipped would destroy the Konoha that they have loved and cherished forever. It would not be a war to ravage their humble homes, laying waste the wooden structures perched precariously around the large Hokage monument. The obliteration of their village would only serve as a physical manifestation, a tangible sign of the apocalypse within. Konoha would be brought down to its knees as its illusory peace would be shattered, and the people's secret desires would bubble furiously to the surface and eat them away.

_Underneath the underneath._

He was a boy but sometimes wasn't, a child when everybody was looking, yet he already grew old and weary right under their noses. There would be moments when he would emerge and show himself; these were rare cracks in the smile that he wore as a necessity. The villagers found it necessary to ignore those cracks and conjure images of demons to replace the boy that stood in front of them.

He did not mind that they hated him. **_It_** would often regale him with stories of how **_he_** tore up family members, _shinobi_ and non-_shinobi_ alike to appease the terrible corporeal hunger that demanded **_his_** attention in the height of **_his_ **killing frenzy. He felt that he deserved such punishment, and drew their unfavorable attention by playing the prankster. He tasted every blow, every scrape, every scathing remark and chewed them up in his head, adding touches here and there to paint bitter memories that played endlessly during his fitful, unpleasant slumber.

He did not mind that he was unloved. He found happiness in other pursuits, like that very first tinge of iridescent blue on his skin after having successfully channeled _chakra_, or that triumphant _plunk_ of a _kunai_ hitting its wooden target. There were enough fathers and mothers to play with the other children that he did not mind shivering alone in his shabby apartment, his thinnest barrier against the rest of the world. He did not find it odd that the basic of the other villagers' diets- rice- was a foreign substance to him and that he had to scarf down the precious bowls of ramen.

_Underneath the underneath. _

Grinning ecstatically, his limbs flailed wildly around his tiny body, slicing through the air… There was a _whoosh_ and they were all around him, then back at his sides, and in a blink of an eye already sweeping arcs, almost as if trying to reach without touching. He was running with the faintest of steps coming from his sandals with little dust clouds that rose from the sallow ground.

And so he found the bridge. There he found the only person who like him was another lonely boy, paler than most and determined to remain untouched by the treacherous pull of love. His was an ironic manner; in his desperation to shun, he had found ways to embrace. He spoke first, with a carefully-placed smirk and a razor-sharp glare.

The challenge was uttered and even before the rules of battle were issued, the _alone_ became a _solitary pair_. They danced on that dangerous ground where they were both friends and foes, where the distinction between touching and feeling blurred into nothingness. The need to hurt and be hurt flashed in each other's eyes, flickering in alteration as they traded the triumphs of landing a well-aimed kick and placing a solid fist into the each other's chests.

His black orbs bled into a deep crimson gaze, piercing the choreography and introducing new steps that the other boy would surely learn. He moved in ways the villagers would proclaim as utter genius- fluidly, soundlessly and methodically- the mark of the blood flowing through his veins. Despite this slight advantage, his breath was ragged as he watched the orange jumper-clad partner coming towards him from behind another of his trademark clones.

The ebony-haired boy had led them halfway through their interlude. It was time for the other to set their path. His fingers fluttered and traced invisible outlines, drawing circles and mystic shapes as he called for power from within. Words that laid claim to the instruments of _shinobi_- _jutsus_ as they were called- poured from his parched lips while the energy rolled off his entire being in swirls and wisps. The eyes that were screwed shut in concentration flew open and narrowed to slits.

To those who weren't paying close attention, those eyes appeared light blue. To those who took notice, they were beyond the color of the sky. They were pools of living emotion, raw hurt and intense pain, bound by the anger that both fueled and shamed him.

_Underneath the underneath._

That the avenger saw. They mirrored his own, echoing the single night where he lost everything except his life. He never fully understood the reason for this strange reflection and he never bothered to do so, knowing that there would always be a silent wall blocking his inquisitive entry. It was the _law_. It was the other one's _wish_.

They had so much in common during their brief clash but the moment it was over, they walked as perfect contradictions. Light and dark. Loved and unloved. Theirs was a dualistic existence, unable to be of much use and instead teetered dangerously between their differences.

The only thing that remained the same after their fights was the fear that gripped them and held them just below the surface, enough to let them drown without dying.

For the one seeking revenge, it was the sheer terror of finding his brother and having to exact his brand of justice but failing to do so. There would always be a lack of something- experience, power, strength, courage – and he would have made his sacrifices in vain. He would have killed the only person who had mattered to him without gaining the ability to overcome his endless nightmare.

For the one seeking recognition, it was the paralyzing dread of letting the _sharingan_-user peer into his eyes and finally see that there was **nothing** inside him after all, _underneath his underneath_, except that demon from thirteen years ago.

* * *

A/N: First attempt at a Naruto fic, oneshot. 


End file.
